


Test Results

by flyingcarpet



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Gen, POV Second Person, Pre-Canon, Starfleet Academy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-30
Updated: 2009-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-18 22:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingcarpet/pseuds/flyingcarpet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I've seen your test results," he says. "I've read your file."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Test Results

"I've seen your test results," he says. "I've read your file."

You don't look at him. There's a salt shaker on the table that's shaped like a starship, and you pick it up. Something just this shape exploded on the day you were born, and started you down this path.

Because of what happened that day, you were stuck with Frank for six miserable years, and he ragged on you all the time, telling you that you were a waste of space, never going to be good at anything. You knew he was wrong. You would prove it to him.

"Have you considered Starfleet?" the counselor at school asked, during one of those meetings that you were forced to attend or else get kicked out of school. "The admissions test is being given tomorrow morning. You would be excused from class." She smiled, as if it was funny, and you silently agreed with her. You didn't really show up for class very often anyway.

Of course you'd considered it, but only as a part of your past -- considered your father dying in a ball of flame, considered shuttles streaming away from the wreckage, considered breathing your first breath in a moment of tragedy. But you never actually thought about it as a part of your future.

"I think some structure would be good for you," the counselor said, and that right there is why you hadn't actually thought of going. You wondered how hard it would be to turn on the charm and seduce her, maybe screw her right here on her desk in her tiny little office.

"I'll give it some thought," you said, and took the brochure from her, just to shut her up. When you left her office, it was time for class but you turned right instead of left, headed out to the parking lot and hopped on your bike and drove out of town.

You didn't want to go to Starfleet Academy, you didn't want uniforms and structure and discipline. You didn't want to do something just because it'd be good for you. But you'd always been good at taking tests, at knowing just what answer they were looking for. You wanted to blow that test out of the water just because you could. You wanted to be able to hold it up in front of Frank's face and say _you're the waste of space_ and _I can do anything I want_. You knew you'd never go through with it, though, because it'd upset Mom and accomplish nothing. Lose-lose.

But you did take that test. You scored off the fucking charts. Literally: you were so far outside the standard deviation they had to re-draw the curve so you didn't blow it for everyone else in the state.

After that, the Academy kept sending you these bullshit admissions packages and letters and brochures, but by then Frank was gone anyway and there was no reason to leave them sitting around where someone might stumble over them. You opened the envelopes in your room and read the glossy pages without letting George or Mom see them and think anything that wasn't true, like maybe you actually wanted to go. It'd be a way out of Iowa, which was pretty damn appealing. But it was obvious in the first line of text, in every photo of clean-cut cadets in bright red uniforms: they didn't want a veteran of the Washington County Juvenile Detention Center, no matter how high your scores.

You threw away the rest of the packages, without even opening them. What was the point?

And until you're sitting in an empty bar across from some old guy with blood running down your face and a salt shaker in your hand, you don't think about Starfleet again.


End file.
